


Like a sudden rush of water through your heart and lungs

by Radiolaria



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Asphyxiation, Bad Geology, Choking, Claustrophobia, F/M, Introspection, Oh look! Rocks!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-03 22:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiolaria/pseuds/Radiolaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's young, he thinks. It may be easier. To take her to the Gamma forests.<br/>Coward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rabbit trail

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The Cold the Dark and the Silence by Sea Wolf.
> 
> Timeline : A rather old married Doctor and an already imprisoned young River
> 
> Warning: Pardon my english.

The Gamma forests, she remembers. Her first planet. Huge trees with grey trunks and dark blue-green leaves, nearly silver underneath. The forests are very damp, always in a fog of tiny droplets that permeate the clothes and the hair and the bags. Due to the porous nature of the soil, a thin greyish sand brought forth by the erosion, no spring, no pond runs through the forests, only the river underneath the ground, a gentle whisper which echoes the undisturbed branches above.

The forests on the planet are mainly in the plains; watchful above, the mountains lay barren, scaling against the dull sky. People live mostly on the edge of the woods, where the mountains begin, where the river is still above ground.

 

 

Her last planet, ironically, is made of wood and leaves.

 

 

The air is so thick with humidity they catch their breath when stepping outside the TARDIS; the atmosphere is white, cleansed, like rinsed watercolours. The weather does not invite them to, yet they stroll around, getting lost in the intricate wood-paths.

On the spur of the moment, because the air is cool, because the wind stands fair and pale long downy rods are swaying long the trail, she captures his neck, hands snaking and fluttering at the same time and brings him close to her. She'd never have expected to enjoy his contact and presence this much. Now she can't get rid of a pressing desire to touch him, constantly. The kiss is gentle and she feels awkward in his large hands. Not quite used to him. Not yet. Not when he's that much used to her.

Today more than ever the ghost of River Song is lingering between them.

'You taste like air,' she says, snapping herself out of her thoughts, 'you taste like rotten leaves and rain.'

He looks a bit offended. She shuns any form of in-depth expression reading.

'You never taste like that. You're dust, you're time. You're dry.' He laughs at that. Thank goodness.

'And you, River, you have water all over you, in your brain.' He lightly taps her forehead.

'In your bones.' He feels her figure.

'You are a nix, a siren.' He teases her mouth. 'You will drown me. Down-pouring me.'

Relieved, she floods his face with kisses. At least that's something she can do, love him now, make him love her now as she is. Playing the mistress to her future self.

 

 

They walk in the Gamma forest, they never run. No need to run before the trees.

They decide on a night in one of the small villages on the outskirts of the woods. River claims it's romantic, the Doctor doesn't argue.

They savour big game that tastes like salmon and drink water that smells of stone. The people of the Gamma forests are surprisingly welcoming and the Doctor suspects it's because of River.

Somehow the way she talks and breathes and walks bears an imprint of her short time amongst them.

Later, in a small retreated hut, they lay together -well, she lays on the woven litter they have been lent, he watches.

He watches the night through the window, he listens to the trees outside. He muses on the path he's choosing right now for her and the consequences it will have.

Building paradoxes in this manner, each decision and action appear such a tiny part of their life. The entanglement is so complex his whole enjoyment of any unexpected events occurring in her presence wanes. At what point would he discover she appeared at that moment precisely because he asked her to or because she had to prevent him from doing what she knew he didn't do? It's a mess.

One string drawn - what edifice might tumble down?

He doesn't know what he set off this time. He suspects the reason of their presence here, only his pride keeps it concealed, like the beasts in the woods. Gentle, grey woods which look the most unthreatening woods he's ever seen. Only whispering. Impenetrable, with nothing to offer his mind for distraction but the cold, the dark and the silence.

Cold, she must be cold.

He creeps in the dark to find her reclining form. She's not sleeping, she's eyeing intently his progression in the dark, his careful stooping towards her, a question suspended between them.

'What are you doing, River Song? So late, you shouldn't be awake?’

He lies beside her, his eyes directed to her face. The litter is fresh, gritty, awkwardly imprinting the flesh on his forearm. He doesn't reach out, he just makes out her face in the dark.

'What are you doing, Doctor?' Her voice is so devoid of emotions he suspects his immobility is lost on her. He stops short from caressing her face, so far away she appears.

'I dream your face. I really can't see it.' He giggles, stopping at once when the sound appears so jarring in the silence. 'But to try to decipher your face in the dark, it's almost like trying to recollect a dream.'

The sigh she lets out is expressive enough to indicate she stepped off that faraway cloud she was on seconds ago.

'You don't dream. You call dream what is an illusion.'

Of course, she's right.

 

 

River. Don't hurt him.

 

 

They reach the Fountain of Peren by midday.

It's lovely and the locals tell them if someone pledges his eternal love, hand placed below the fountainhead and the water stops, it means he's not lying.

River insists on the Doctor taking a chance. He flinches but she's young still, inexperienced, trusting; he can't manage her.

The pain in her eyes when the water keeps on running down is unbearable. She casts him a fierce look, brings her hand to the stone and promises eternal love with such fire in her voice he immediately reads she means to hurt him.

Throwing her love at him, that's something young River does.

Come to think of it, that's something older River can't help either.

The water keeps on running and she bursts out of laughter.

If it is out of relief or sadness, he doesn't know.

 

 

She hates herself for being so stupidly, blindly in love with him. One of their first -not the last, she hopes- long trip together and she can't think straight.

Not right. She's thinking too straight.

She's wary of him. He obviously knows something she doesn't about their trip. Not a romantic getaway.

Something is waiting.

He's waiting for something to happen, he probably doesn't even know how it will happen. And as always the tricky dastard wants her to be there to witness that something about to happen. The way he watches her is telling. How many times before she could actually prove him wrong, show him she can be trusted with his schemes and secrets?

He does not trust her and she does not trust him. Not completely.

And it hurts.

Because she finds herself unable to lean on him and show him that she does love him, stupidly, blindly. Without noticing he is keeping something from her. Without noticing he's lying or thinking about her future, past -to hell- self.

Or perhaps she does show him. She's probably a better actress than she gives herself credit for.

It takes one to know one.

He knows she notices his lies.

 

 

'Why are we here?' River asks the third day.

They are folded together, concealed by bushes in a sandy clearing, his head nestled between her breasts, dedicated to the low thumping within her chest.

For a moment, he is jarred by the question, even more than by the moment she chose to ask it. But there is so much love in her eyes, so much trust he assumes she is just being, plainly, young. Earlier on, she let out a singing laughter over the sand insinuating everywhere. An older River, he knows, would not have laughed. He lets himself fall beside her, his right arm brushing her warm shoulder.

'Because you need to know of the Gamma forest and their people, and their trust and awe before me.'

She turns towards him propped up on one elbow and readjusts her sweater on before combing his hair.

'You've been here before, haven't you? It's not awe they feel in front of you. It's fear.'

He entwines his fingers together on his stomach, repressing a purr as she massages his scalp.

'I might have caused a little revolution while looking for a certain baby.'

He opens his eyes just in time to catch the fond smile she has on her face, a split second. She knows nothing about Demon's Run, at this point, of the role she will play herself, of the pain it will cause her parents. For her it is only the place of her birth. Well, obviously, she is aware of how traumatic it was for everyone, how vainglorious he was. She did her homework.

Up to a point.

Her presence afterwards remains hidden, lost in the trivia of history.

Soon she huffs in annoyance and he frowns. She may know more than he suspects.

But he can't ask. Spoilers.

He mourns her innocence.

 

 

On one of their late journeys into the woods he becomes joyously excited about a silver deer and a grey boar.

'I thought I would never see one of them,' he goofily grins.

'You know they may look like ordinary animals to you, but they are not! Entirely different species, coming from outer space. Nothing like the other deer and boars we met in the forest. Under the satellite beams, their bristle shimmers like a prism; and in the cold season, that is now, they call their siblings to huddle, family reunion! Except they gather to honour their parents, the old, the sick, before they die... And the call is so beautiful other animals are said to stop, just stop everything they are doing and listen. Isn't that amazing, a song so captivating it defies the concept of beauty between species?’

'Apparently not time lord, even the silver deer can't endeavour to buck him up. Listen!'

She grips his arm, lowering him to her side on an eaten trunk. She senses him shuddering at the dampness on his buttocks and stifles a laugh.

'Is that it?' His wide eyes are frantically scanning the alleys and burrows as if the boars could inform him.

'I don't know,' she whispers against his arm, suddenly small and humbled. The nearness of him coupled with that cry of songs ending is encompassing. 'Oh, it's beautiful. What a night!' He stiffens and his hand on hers seems to perspire pure dread.

She bites back the tears stinging her eyes.

Do not read too deep in his emotions. Not when she is not ready yet to face what she might find.

The dirge goes on for a few minutes. There is a pause and suddenly, ruffled hooves and flapping wings fill the air again.

They are silent on the way back to the village.

 

 

They nose around for a few days. When the Doctor is weary of all the rusticity and the draughty halls buried in vegetation, he seeks shelter in the TARDIS, for a day. He wouldn't tell River – though he fears the Old Girl will take care of that–, he goes on a an adventure on his own.

Also, he runs. This tense relationship, so close to her beginning, is unexpected. And painful. Was there ever a time when it was easy? Surely she didn't fall in love when things were that tempered and wrong?

He finds himself a passing companion, who is lovely and very adventurous. Oh, it's magnificent and dangerous! Once he rid of angry Sycorax the town hall of the Capital city in her home planet, he bids the people farewell and gets quite passionately kissed by the lovely and very adventurous short-time companion.

He steps again in the Gamma forests under a bleak sky that foretells a lukewarm welcome; from River's point of view, he has been away one afternoon only and he is eager to see her to suggest a trip.

An adventure in the mountain quarries has been tempting him for long; they are said to be haunted; with what, he'd like to disclose the mystery.

He finds River by the town pool, wool gathering, from time to time dipping a wood stick in the water and studying the ripples spreading on the surface. He fails to startle her as he steps close and she welcomes him with a coy look, which efficiently cools his springy mood.

'Hello. The Old Girl sends her love.' Her eyebrows knit in an embarrassed furrow.

'Well, I think she did, you know.' He pauses, distracted by the concentric circles and her numb response. 'Doctor Song, what about trying the stone quarries tomorrow morning?'

He'll always be running away.

'If you like, but that would be our last excursion. I think I need to go back to prison for now. We can't risk running into my owners.'

A disoriented expression passes on his features, soon discarded. Their stop here was, as he feared, a success; River talked to the locals.

 

 

She doesn't want Kovarian to be proven right, not after coming such a long way.

Within the pages of books, she thought she learned.

Witnessing is another thing altogether.

Don't fail me, she thinks.

River. Don't.


	2. Light at the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gigantic thank-you to deborah_judge for climbing on the band wagon and beta-reading the last two chapters.

 

From afar, the quarry is a blue wound into the grey mountains; a bare, dusty, chasm that rises in stairs against the sky. The humidity is not lesser here and the dust has a clammy way to cleave to clothes and hair that infuriates the Doctor. His frantic fidgeting and hovering greatly amuses River, for which he is grateful.

'River,' he cries. 'It's just very not agreeable. There's nothing funny about that.'

'We are almost at the gates.'

She's been so silent since they parked the TARDIS in the foothills. Their steady ascent has been filled with so many things unsaid he feels he can practically trace each step of her reasoning. There, behind that slope, she thought about choking him. On that downtrodden spot where she waited for him to step down from his perch, she quite simply might have broken.

The landscape is not helping, all stones and dust, sickly undergrowth clinging to the uneven ground. Nothing to focus on but the regular muffled friction of their shoes, the timid lapping of River's flask or bottle in her bag, the lonely call of a bird in the distance. The forest was such a safe place compared to the scores.

She has a right to be crossed with him. He lied.

How is he supposed to convey her the impression their encounters are not fixed stop-offs put down by some predestination paradox half-crazed engineer on the intricate map of their life? How, when he is not convinced himself? She must hate him.

They sounded so simple, so raw and sincere, these words she wept at the top of a pyramid that never existed. He thought she loved him, more than anyone in the Universe.

It seems it's something he will have to work on after all.

They are reaching a level, a large landing arranged before the quarries. He fends off a sigh that would only drain River's patience.

A bloated moss-eaten sign, the post long gone, lays at their feet. Right in front of them, two rusted spears stuck in the ground mark the entrance. They are all that remains of the gates. The main extraction site beyond is a huge irregular semicircle, dug into the rock face, like some grotesque amphitheatre that never endeavoured to sink to depth required for tragedies. On the floor, dismantled wooden wagons and various digging tools are sprawled. The blue rock before them glistens with dampness, rivulets of water cascading down, hitting heaps of shambles at the bottom.

'I thought it was haunted. It's just ruins really,' he pouts. Ruins are of no interest whatsoever.

'Well, the people working in here haven't gone away for a picnic. The gates, because gates they are in spite of their minimalistic appearance, have seemingly been smashed in, as if a train drove through it...'

 

 

The Doctor isn't paying much attention to her words, focusing instead on the nature of the ground. His moves are slow and guarded, feeling grit with his hands, sometimes bringing on pebbles to his mouth and licking it conscientiously.

'The ground has been shaken up. I mean, really turned upside down. Not here.' He points at the gates. 'But here.' He draws the outline of a wide quadrilateral at the centre of the quarry. 'We are not standing on the original ground. It probably used to go much further down.'

River nods, showing the nearer store.

'The height difference is not the same on the first landing. There are probably more going underground.'

The Doctor rubs his hands in expectation.

'This is fun. The quarry has been filled up. They haven't mentioned that.'

Inspecting the tools laying on the floor, she looks up. 'They didn't know about it. One day, forty years ago, no worker came back home from the quarry and most of the men they sent ahead since disappeared or went home none the wiser. They are superstitious people, they didn't pry further.'

She stands up, rummaging her bumbag for her scanning device.

'If I'm not stepping on the ground, why are there tools here? They should have been buried by whatever filled the hole.'

The Doctor scratches his cheek. ‘They could have fallen from upward.'

'They could, they are so damaged they might have been in a train-wreck.'

Again, he dismisses her inquiry and begins striding with intent through the quarry, hair performing gravity-defying numbers.

'What's important is the ground. It's not something natural. There was a huge gap and it was filled up. The composition of the soil in here is extremely diversified.'

He directs his attention to her as she tries to make sense of the readings she's getting. Clearly he is ready for a magnificent display of science. They go from one distraction to another.

'The Gamma forest is famous for the homogeneity of its minerals. There is on the surface only one type of stone, except in different form; sand, grit, rock, massive block. That's why the types of trees for such a big forest are so reduced. Underground, we don't know much, since the Gamma planet is fairly unpopulated and unexploited, but celerity analyses have indicated that the density of the planet varies. So different types of rocks underneath! Plus, the water, hmm.'

He lifts up a forefinger, a delighted grin blooming on his lips.

She wants to eat up his pretty little teacher face.

'Peculiar taste isn't it? Not very much acquainted with the surface stone. So, somewhere underneath, even in these very mountains, there are very well hidden interesting rocks or things and Doctor Song, put down that face,' he finishes, voice shrill with excitement.

She hums back 'What face?' and he runs to her and whirls her across the quarry, gathered in his arms.

'Ah, River, River! We've discovered something,' he pants. 'And you are worried about your face. It's a glorious face, but I wouldn't carve it in stone.'

She falls on the ground sending dust around, choking her laugh and catching her breath alternatively.

He bends, hands on his knees and studies her, solemn.

'Flesh is the only material that could do it justice.'

She lowers her gaze, uncomfortable under his fond smile.

Don't be so damn charming.

It's so simple at times.

To forget he is performing.

 

 

They are seated against the rock, face to the blue valley underneath.

It's quiet. Very unadventurous. Doesn't feel like running. He didn't think he would enjoy unadventure with River, at least with this young River.

River has unpacked a sandwich for herself and custard pie for him. She's flushed and the contrast between the blue rocks and her warm face reminds him of a sunset.

'We still don't know what happened here,' she asks between bites.

The Doctor proving to be far from famished after the climb is fussing with the custard, diligently licking it from the pie-let.

'We could go back to the TARDIS and have a trip in the past, but that would be no fun.'

'And extremely dangerous, I don't want to lose the TARDIS in an earthquake.' She glances around in worry.

'You numpty scholar, it can't have been an earthquake. But dangerous is fun.'

'No,' she stuffs the end of her sandwich into her mouth and gathers up to stand.

'Really, not a good idea.'

Once up, she stretches herself and the Doctor dives forward to poke at the parcel of pelvis revealed. She curls herself up in response, a hard look in her eyes. He mouths a sorry and gobbles up his pie. Even those little things seem messed up.

'We haven't been attacked by any kind of curse or creatures from a pit,' she carries on, focused.

He is wistful. Creatures in pits, so long ago, so close.

No need to dwell on them.

He stands on his feet and dusts off his trousers before gesturing toward the mountain behind them. Back to running.

'Let's try the other quarry.'

 

 

They walk round the metallic gates and the slope to find a large opening in the mountains where remains of worn tables and equipment lay upside down.

'There,' he jauntily exclaims. 'The HQ!'

They make for the entrance of the cave, or rather lack of it. A vault roughly hollowed out, it is not so deep as it is high. A giant could fit in here, she ponders. Seemingly only a retreat from the frequent rains the workers must have experienced. Right now, there is no trace of them. The place is completely deserted. A map of the quarries hangs on one of the walls, a broken mug, little nothings that are crumbling to dust.

'No one has been here for a long time. There's nothing, nothing,' River whispers.

The trip is starting to prove less exciting than expected and they are useless on what is beginning to be a plain boring trek. These heaps of dust, these chunks of woods are too much a reminder of her cell.

Except, her cell is not an option right now, when she is quite simply petrified of facing herself. Of stopping and thinking about the fact the duplicity suit Kovarian cut him is fitting down to a tee.

He's a devious, slightly madcap, slightly charming, smooth talker. At first it's so easy to be dragged along in a whirlwind of wonder. Yet she knew before meeting him what he was. And she unlearned it, entirely.

Because it was biased, wrong, ugly. Because she took a chance.

Now, when there are no adventures, no danger, no skin and kisses to keep them from crashing into each other, she's beginning to grasp what he does to the heart of his companions.

Slowly realising he intends to do the same with hers.

 _Polumêtis Odusseús_ , I won't be your Penelope, she makes up her mind.

'Hang on!' The Doctor, face to the wall, stops her as she's absently heading for the open space of the quarry.

'What is that?' She steps over to his side. They are now both staring at a large gap in the wall, quite irregular in frame that was not there on their first inspection, moments before.

'Is it real?'

The Doctor probes the wall with his fingers. ‘It is. Solid rock. But how did we...'

River goes before him, torch in hand and the darkness swallows her. Another fire escape.

'River', he cries out.

 

 

'It's okay,' River's voice seems to permeate the mountain. 'It turns right. I think it goes deeper. There's air coming from the deep. Exit on the other side. Maybe!'

He bounces inside sonicing the walls and bumps into her.

'Secret passage into the heart of the mountain. I like it.'

'Well, be less excited and more careful, I don't want to lose the light.'

'We have the sonic, you know. Oh,' he loosens his collar and feels his hair. 'It's awfully damp in here.'

'Damp and cold.' She tightens her coat around her. 'Of course you had to dive head first in the trip with perfectly impractical clothes. I may have to release the fleece.' She chides him, not playful or flirtatious, just withdrawn, tense, cool.

'Shall we try further? I don't want to set a campfire in here.' River lifts a finger to ask for a minute.

She takes down her bag and digs for a bottle of water. As she's avidly drinking, he presses his hands against the cold wet walls. Completely bare of mildew. Quite different from the cavity they explored just before. The air in here feels different. They are underground after all.

'Are you okay? Can we go on?' He tries before progressing further along the tunnel, hands sliding along the walls, not waiting for her answer. The light from the entrance behind is growing dimer and dimer, replaced progressively by an atmospheric blending; the electric green light from the sonic, the pale beam from River's lamp and the dusk-tinted circle of light from the exit far ahead.

There is a way out, at least. Far ahead.

He senses at his side more than he sees River who has taken up with him, her breathing hot and grey in volutes against the cold darkness. Again, he is surprised at how bare the tunnel is; no moss, no plant, no insect. A lifeless bowel to the unknown. He should be excited, his curiosity aroused. He feels weary.

'They ought to be mushrooms at least,' he growls.

Their progression is fast-paced and soon, in the atmosphere charged with humidity, they are soaking wet.

'It's ridiculous. I miss our draughty little hut in the woods; at least, there was air.'

River moans in answer.

'But they ought to be, we hear so much air current, around us; the walls must be lineated with tunnels and we're in the only one where wind doesn't blow.'

He waits for River's sarcasm about him being a fussy city-dweller but only hears her ragged breathing behind him. He turns on the spot, away from the faint light, only to find a pained expression on her face.

'River.' He grips her shoulders, peering into widened blind eyes. 'River, what's going on?’

He quickly sonics her while she stands, rigid, slightly bent forward, hands on her knees, as if lost in concentration. He frowns at his sonic and inquires again:

'River, tell me!'

She looks up at last, gapes silently, knits her brows, clutches her neck, gapes again, and still that slow, airless breath comes out of her parted lips.

She can't properly breathe.

'Oh River,' he wails, plaintively. He is painfully aware of the origin of her expression as of now. Unable to breathe underground, he's sure, it nearly beats unable to breathe underwater.

He is rambling, more for himself than for her because he fears a panic attack on her part, and she is too quiet, too intent on inhaling, exhaling – steadily – efficiently.

 

 

Inhale – exhale – be steady – be efficient.

He is rambling, more for himself than for her because he fears a panic attack on her part. She wants him to shut up.

Stop making this up as you go along, she soundlessly pleas.

Or don't. Keep babbling. Keep distracting yourself.

She is in a sweat. And he can't see it.

Shutting everything down. Body and mind. It's the only way.

She doesn't want to drown, alone and in the dark. Not again.

Can't ask for help. Otherwise she will be another helpless thing.

Her training screeches against the multiple partitions in her mind. That's usually the moment her instinct chooses to quick in and wrecks everything in its path. It's dark and the walls are closing in. Her issue never has been to keep it together, but to keep those walls standing in her mind, impassable.

Don't hurt him.

Shut everything down.

 

 

'We should carry onwards, straight ahead, we're nearly out. Keep calm.'

She seems to look at him askance as he hooks her up on his shoulder. He feels it now, with the extra weight of River's numb body. The air is so thick with droplets breathing, let alone speaking, is becoming painful, as if drowning little by little.

Why does everything revolve around water with her?

The air pumped out from his lungs seems to be cut through instantly, leaving him gaping inaudibly, short of syllables or words. It's certainly strange, he wonders.

And draining; he thanks time lord physiology without which they would have been crawling out. River is heavy on him, her bag repeatedly crashing into his side with every footstep and he suspects the giggles she lets out from time to time are actually oxygen deprivation.

The tunnel end has seemed so near.

Her body against his has grown even limper, her usually taut frame escaping his arms, running through. He struggles to keep her on him. He's not so strong. Dead bodies are weighty.

When finally they break out, the Doctor starts to feel oppressed; they are outside, in another quarry seemingly, yet the air is still unbreathable. The sun is going down behind the slope, leaving the vast area before them colourless and dead. He gently lays a barely conscious River on the floor against the wall, head rested on her bag and starts scanning the air, panic slowly creeping.

The atmosphere was perfectly fine in the other quarry, why would it be so thick here?

The humidity is gagging and clingy as if alive.

Alive, he repeats to himself, his eyes slowly coming to rest on River.

She is letting out a thin snigger as she makes her hand jump forwards, inch by inch, on the ground. Except he doubt she has the strength.

Perhaps the air is not the only thing being thick around here. He kneels beside her, reconfiguring his screwdriver settings.

'River,' he calmly asks. 'Are you doing that?' He steadies her hopping hand in his and she looks up, still dizzy but focused, as understanding slowly dawns on her.

Oh, whatever problems they might have, she is on a par with him. Always one step behind.  


	3. Dark matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank-you to deborah_judge for the edits.

River comes to her senses in a grey world, a world of shadows and she hates shadows. Her short memory is uncertain, snapshots of the previous hour stacking, still remarkably ordered. Atmosphere unbreathable. Too damp. Too thick. At a relatively low altitude. No air current. Yet sound of air movement. Her hand moving on her own.

Of course.

'Of course,' the Doctor scolds himself.

He is working through the composition of the air, testing a different programming on the sonic, in vain. A grunt of frustration escapes him, his palms flapping at thin air. River, her breath faint, but now from expectation, reaches for the sonic, changes the settings and hands it to him with a smug smile ; he disgustingly glares at her, yet gives another try at the scan. This time, the whole quarry lights up, filled of millions of tiny green lanterns.

The Doctor and River exchange a rapt smile.

 

 

Light organisms, as wide as grain of sand, nearly invisible little things, are slowly rolling with determination on the ground or suspended in mid-air. And each time the Doctor or River takes a breath, they inhale hundreds of them. The dots lit by the green beam are gathering by River's side, forming a luminescent mattress underneath. As they start to haul her forward, River calls out a plaintive 'Doc', which he immediately silences.

'Don't move. I'll follow you. We may find the disappeared miners.' She gives him a nasty look, floating away on a litter of thin air and photons. He is one step behind, stimulating the swarms from time to time to keep them alight, careful not to crush any of the tiny insects -are they insects?-, though he doubts he can.

The procession stealthily trundles along until the outskirts of the quarry, past derelict fences, toward the dry shrubbery that stands for fauna in these wind-worn mountains. He is relieved to hear River's genuine and no longer breathless laugh as he falls his way bottom first out of the quarry, trying to step over the fence. They are nearing a depression in the ground, a bushy pit, before which River jumps on her feet, chuffing. The tiny creatures seem to lose interest in her the moment she's able to move on her own. The Doctor catches up with River and looks down on the pit. It is filled with corpses, animal and human, in various state of decomposition.

'I think we found their dump,' he blankly states.

River does not wait for him to launch in any funeral rites and is carefully descending the slope set on taking a closer look at the grave dwellers. He feels a strange lost pang in the chest as he makes out her white clad form, her light-catching hair, against the dull grimacing figures. She looks up, eyes dug with that same expression she had, bent over the immaculate remains of Miss Evangelista.

'Definitely Gamma people and we can assume they all died from...'

His attention snaps back to her.

'Asphyxiation. I expect it is impossible to survive a herd of these with a simple respiratory system.' He lends her a hand to climb back and receives her in his arms.

This is one grave he can get her out of.

She wholeheartedly smiles, mind wandering entirely elsewhere, probably just glad he is so caring all of a sudden. Her touch feels right on him after all they went through. He watches after her eased breathing, hands on her ribcage.

He feared for her. He was not expecting this.

His mind told him otherwise. She's already dead. Her dying multiple times is almost completely impossible. Yet nothing has ever stopped the Universe from going completely askew and resisting fate. He can lose her, he realises and in more way than he can now surmise. Death is definitely not the only answer.

 

 

He has that look again, grief and guilt. The one which rattled her in the forests. Except this time he appears determined to do something about it. No silent mourning, no faceless companionship. He bops her nose.

 

 

She simply furrows her forehead, caught unaware and pushes him away. The moment he understands there is still contingency and alternative he feels lighter, grander. Because not only time can be rewritten but also time can, still, after all this time, surprise him.

'But they don't mean to kill?' She asks, inspecting the vicinity.

A smile tugs at his lips. How they tick together.

'No, they probably don't understand what happened to those titanic creatures we are to them. Imagine, they were floating around minding their own business and suddenly things slump on the floor and start decaying.' He grimaces. ‘That’s probably why they left the metal tools, sure don't attract bugs.'

 

 

'So, you don't know what they are?' The Doctor shrugs. ‘Or where they came from?'

'They are water creatures from the deep. Their structure can take really, really high pressures. And they are incredibly moist. I'd say ninety percent.' He proudly smirks.

'But, why now? The quarry had been exploited for years before it happened, unless...'

'Unless these creatures have been woken up by the excavation,' he finishes.

They are heading back to the quarry, guided by the light of the sonic, careful not to run into a green swarm.

'The damp corridors?' she tries.

'Probably not. Why would the miners dig that many in the mountains. It's not a mountain, it's an organ! From what we've heard, some of the walls are veined with hollow paths.'

'Which are unnatural.'

'Yes, but there must be...' He cuts short, scrutinizing the rock face they just reached. He shows his sonic and traces patterns on the wall. A wide joyous grin lights up his face. Suddenly he is bending and digging a hole with his heel, as River watches him incredulous, thinking he's gone barmy. Stepping back with a grin for her, he extends his sonic and vividly sheds light on the hole. A multitude of luminous spots are rushing towards the diminutive gap, trailing back the extracted ground and neatly piling it down. River audibly gasps in wonder.

'They filled the quarry? But it must have taken...'

'Quite a long time, but not as long as you think. Look, they are quick workers. And the cavern hole... I just hit the bull's eye. Marry me, River, I'm really good.' He brags as she rolls her eyes. 'The patterns used to dig all those corridors are the same.'

'They dug that? They must have been digging from the other side...'

'Yep. And when they reached our side, we rightly thought a door just appeared.'

They both stare in awe, at the freshly dug hole, now filled up, giddy with discovering excitement. They work tremendously well together, she can't help to admit, their minds buzzing at the same frequency. And he notices it, there's a certain shine in his eyes, a proud luster to his smile.

'But the ground to fill the quarries, they need to take it from somewhere, the locals used the stone a long time ago.'

'That's probably why our little workers excavated such wide corridors in the mountains. It is Swiss cheese. Remember, quarries filled with unusual type of stone, that is to say, unusual for surface deposit.'

'Mind you, they really don't like their ground to be damaged. Which means they must think they are still home.'

'Probably deep down.'

'They can't go back down, they filled the pits!' How they tick together, she marvels.

'They're perhaps just a little primitive. You can't expect every new species you meet to be on a time lord level of intelligence.'

She pinches him, causing him to jerk sideways and hit his knee in the wall. They can't see anything now. The sun has completely set, the satellite and stars diffusing a feeble light on the arid landscape.

'How do we make sure no more people die accidentally inhaling them? We can't talk to the creatures.' She grasps at thin air, trying to feel some. She waits.

His gentleness and his pride have considerably lightened the mood. The instant he opens his mouth to word the wrong answer it will shatter.

The Doctor sonics the air again to make them visible and fortunately for their lungs the creatures seem to have grouped elsewhere, only few of them remaining in the quarry. Shame swathes her mind as the origin of that trick comes back to her.

Kovarian. Know your enemy.

Yet the Doctor scratches his cheek, oblivious to the riddle she laid before him, and unconvincingly suggests: 'We lie? Surely we can't trap them. Do you see us fluttering about with a net to catch tiny invisible miniature communists with a very impractical sense of what's alive and what's not?'

Her beautiful idiot. All uncertainties considered he's a toddler. Today every alien lives.

 

 

River is looking at the mountain, a knowing smile spreading on her lips, eyes filled with relief.

'Or we dig.'

The Doctor puts on a frankly annoyed face.

'I really don't want to dig. The working conditions are far from excellent.'

'No, no. I mean,' she rushes to his side and picks up his sonic screwdriver, 'we could go back to the TARDIS.'

She activates the sonic and a familiar whirring sound breaks the silence as the TARDIS materialises near the fence.

'I hate it when she shows obvious favouritism,' he scoffs.

River crinkles her nose in response and leaps over towards the TARDIS.

'And find appropriate tools.'

The Doctor snaps the sonic from River's hands before she disappears into the ship and scans the area.

'For digging?' He shouts out, dubious.

'Apparently they don't mind your presence, Sexy,' he mumbles as he joins River in the TARDIS. With worry, he witnesses River manoeuvring down the stairs a huge trunk he'd never known he had. As she misses a step and performs an impressive balancing dance to steady herself he jumps forward and offers his help, only to be threatened with the possibility of both of them dying if he attempts to carry the bigger-than-herself trunk. It lands loudly on the console room floor and the Doctor winces for his ship.

The case is bigger on the inside, crammed with excavation tools, spades, rakes, albeit modern, tons of piled up screens, scanning devices and a blue oblong object which looks like a baking tool. She grabs the latter as well as a flat silver screen and hops on her feet, shushing his questions as she strolls past him.

'Now come, you've always thought archaeology was boring. Well, let me introduce you to some of our very cool gadgets. You have a sonic.' She brandishes her screen while stepping out of the door.

'I have a portable density scanner.' She seductively quirks an eyebrow.

 

 

He mumbles in disdain and pets his sonic, yet falls into step behind her.

'With a screen, Sweetie,' she adds, patiently. 'And a precision some of our greatest minds thought long and hard to achieve. It can see through everything.'

She peruses the ground, hounding for some particular spot. All the while, the Doctor is moping by the TARDIS, pretending to fiddle with his favourite toy. She bites her lip and waves the surprise toy. 'And a sonic excavator.'

His jaw drops instantly as he trots over to her, eager to inspect the device.

'Oh, you beauty,' he coos, registering every buttons and wheels of the delicate object River is presenting him. 'We'll just have to set it and wait!'

'Exactly.' River is scanning the ground, progressing on one knee, fingers frantically typing on the tiny console. 'But first, we need to find a proper spot, we're talking about extreme groundwater. Also, the excavator could theoretically pierce through titanium but I cannot guarantee the time it will take. Surely, you don't want to spend the night here.' He shrugs, not bothering to look up from the complex tool.

After a few more minutes, she starts and harrumphs, pointing dramatically at a spot in the ground. 'There. It's moist enough under.'

The Doctor hurries back to her, cradling the sonic excavator in his arms and presents it ceremoniously at River with a faint bow.

'Amaze me, Doctor Song.' That's it, she thinks, Doctor Song. For the first time, she has a feeling it is not  _River Song_  any more. It's her.

At last, she feels strong enough to take up whatever she might find in him.

'Let me.'

 

 

And she is amazing, expertly opening panels and flicking levers, with a delightfully skilled jazz, nimble fingers fluttering by the buttons, torch wedged between her teeth. He really should talk to her about those busy hands of hers. It's a work of art.

And so is she. It's clockwork. Beautiful when in movement, never as rapturous as with time ticking, running, flying. And maybe it's the only way they can work together, not pausing an instant. They haven't got time. Any recess would shatter their hands running round the clock. Sometimes crossing. Sometimes embracing. But never stopping.

The reason behind their run.

The device firmly set into the ground, River extracts a little remote control from one of her pockets and backs up to the Doctor’s side. An excited look passes between them and both extend their arm forward, River holding the remote, the Doctor pointing his sonic.

 

 

'Ready', he opens wide eyes to the still dark quarry. Her indelicate sentimental idiot.

 

 

'When you are', she counters, eyes anchored to his face for a second before turning back to the device.

 

 

The excavator vibrates, singing a low, throbbing note which fills the silence. The sonic provides light for the scene, the blue and grey rocks fantastically twinkling under its evergreen sheen.

Luminous spots are dancing around, gathering with curiosity, it seems, to the device. And slowly, carefully, as the hum of the excavator becomes fainter, they start pouring down the hole, no more than an inch large.

Within seconds, green lamps spring from every rock and pebbles around them to converge to what is now a pit of light. The air is blazing wild with them, choking the awed couple on the side, sweeping birds and little animals off their beddings.

A loud thump marks the end of the fight for a convulsing bird and the night is nothing but a hoarse commotion of invisible animals, plants, time lords fighting for breath. Yet the sight is entrancing, the atmosphere in the quarry set afire, as if every particle was dancing in joy.

Because they seem joyful, these tiny unnamed creatures which sipped from the belly of the planet. They rejoice in finding their way back home in a chaos of melting matters and high pressure homogeneity.

The flow carries on for a minute before the streams of light grow thin. Fewer and fewer of them fall down the pit, some lagging behind as if saying goodbye, some towing away a last pebble.

 

 

And then, nothing.

 

 

The quarry is plunged into darkness again, the beam of the sonic barely reaching the walls.

River sighs against him, an arm snaking around his waist. She's breathing slowly, with dedication, catching her breath against his neck, which he finds a surprisingly inefficient way to catch one's breath. For both of them. Time lord physiology or not.

'That was amazing,' he remarks, blandly.

She unleashes a throaty laugh and pecks his jaw, before stopping, suddenly serious.

'I would never have dreamt of tasting that on your skin, ever, not after Berlin, anyway.'

'Taste what?' He looks down at her, who is presently consisting of hair only and startles. Berlin is never a subject to be mentioned lightly.

'This.' She nudges his collarbone. 'Amazement, wonder, bafflement.' Oh, he was in Berlin, amazed, wonder-lost, baffled. His precious little paradox, who against all odds, apparently, cares. And forgives.

She breathes and he relaxes. ‘You really never have seen anything like that before?'

Little rock nurses. In a flash, he recalls London, the blitz, Rose and the Union Jack, the other Jack and everybody lives, and he beams.

This is different. This is about River being oh so magnificent.

'Never.'

After a meaningful pause, he whispers 'I didn't know I taste like anything when I am amazed'.

She looks up, eyes almost dark.

'Oh, you do.'

They forget the excavating device on the floor.

 

 

In the morning River has a fit. The batteries of the device died during the night, damaged by the cold.

'Do you think I can find those types anywhere? Course not. Damn pricey too.'

He hands her a cup of black tea, kneeling beside the table they set outside for breakfast and drops a kiss on her upset brow.

'I'll give you a lift to steal this one.'

She flashes him a toothy smile which he clams up with his fingers.

'Just this once.' He sips his tea, admiring the sun rising on the walls, offering a view so different from the surreal darkness which saw them save the night.

'It was my fault after all we didn't think of it before the morning.'

They retrieve the excavator, admiring the work of the busy tiny creatures which are still filling up the pit behind them. River carves a TARDIS on the rock face and the Doctor fails miserably at lining her profile with pebbles. His previous incarnation was so much better at art.

 

 

Before leaving the planet, they stop over at the village to inform the Gamma people of the demise of their miners and the situation up in the quarry. The trickiest part is to convincingly advise them against any deep excavation in the area, which would chance another meeting with the tiny and deadly creatures or simply prompt the collapsing of the mountain riddled with holes. It explains the absence of celebration River was rather looking forward to.

In their mind the Doctor should have defeated those creatures, not let them free. But not even the people of the Gamma forest can know truly, when he comes down from the sky, which of the warrior or the healer is going to help.

She probably never will either.

She knows she will have to stand by both. To castigate and to comfort. Both if necessary. And it will hurt.

She will shut everything down. Mind and body. To keep him safe.

To lift this weight from his shoulder.

He doesn't need to know when she aches.

As she doesn't need to understand him completely, in those moments when he appears a henchman to fate.

She just needs him to trust her.

 

 

'There's one thing I do not understand,' she asks, hands on the door frame as she prepares to step out of the TARDIS back in Stormcage.

The Doctor leans against the door, paying more attention to what the light is doing for her eyes than to what she is actually saying.

'Hmm?'

She bares her lower teeth in annoyance before asking again:

'There's one thing I do not understand!' He loves it when she is young enough to admit that kind of ignorance. ‘What happened to the tools and the gates and the ruins we saw?'

He starts, forehead guiltily wrinkling and spins back making for the console as he sing-songs:'Back to prison, Doctor S...'

‘Doctor! She snarls out, hand firmly set on the bow tie, which causes him to lurch back against her. 'What did you do?'

He licks his lips, unease all over his gangly frame.

'Remember the revolution I accidentally started last time I was there? I might also have let a giant rabbit on the loose.'

'Doctor...'


End file.
